An Overabundance Of Control
by Roma Fawcette
Summary: '"Why are you doing this?" Bruce asked roughly. "Because I know what it's like to feel lost, to feel out of control. You and I are one and the same, Dr Banner - it's about time you realised that you're not as alone as you thought."' Whilst the Avengers are in Stuttgart, Coulson makes another stop.


**So this is my first story on this account, and I hope you guys like it! **

**Disclaimer; I do not own the Avengers, or Marvel. At all. **

I sighed tiredly as I sank into my comfortable office chair. It had been a long day, very draining, but what else could you realistically expect when you were privy to the inventions and ideas that I was. All I wanted to do was finish up one more project, and then have a nice, long, scorching shower before bed.

Unfortunately, the world has a remarkable way of disregarding what I want and forcing me to do the exact opposite.

The phone rang, startling me enough that my feet slipped from their place on the table with an uncomfortable lurch. I glared at the offending technology for a long moment before reluctantly picking it up and answering it. "Hel-lo?" I sang into the phone, replacing my feet on my desk with a casualness which belied the professional tone with which I spoke.

"Can I talk to Ms Turner, please?" the person on the other end of the phone had a strong, deep voice. It was unfamiliar, which instantly put me on my guard. My number was absent from the phone book, which meant that only those I knew were able to contact me; if anybody unfamiliar was calling, then that meant that this was either a.) somebody who had been referred to me by one of my clients, or b.) bad news. Though my thoughts were in turmoil, I kept my professional persona intact.

"Who's speaking?" I asked politely, my sugar sweet tone disguising the confusion and fear I felt at how far out of my comfort zone this was.

"This is Director Nick Fury, of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, otherwise known as S.H.I.E.L.D."

I nearly dropped the phone. "Ms Turner isn't here right now, sorry. Can I take a message?" I offered smoothly. Inside, my heart was racing. What did they want with me? I hadn't hurt anybody recently. I didn't misuse my powers – in fact, I actively tried to avoid using them. Why did they need to talk to me?

"No thank you." The line went dead. I gaped at the device in shock; who did this guy think he was? You can't just _hang up_ on somebody without saying goodbye! Common courtesy dictates that you at least give some notice before you leave a conversation.

I stood up, irritated, but the dull ache which was ever-present in my body intensified suddenly, and my muscles tensed in warning. I swallowed with difficulty, screwing my face up in pain as tremors wracked my small form. I attempted to quickly control my breathing, sinking back into my chair with a sigh and wincing at the sharp pains that shot from the base of my spine to the apex of my neck. This was the norm for me, though none but my childhood doctors knew of my affliction, and even then they didn't know the full story.

I sat there for several minutes, until the burning pain receded back to a dull ache and I could move without unusual pain. When I was certain that the pain was manageable, I stood once more, headed for my large bathroom. Once inside, I reached into the shower stall and turned on the water before shutting the sliding glass doors to the stall and breathing in the cloying steam. It soothed me, the swirling water vapours drifting lazily out of the stall and into the rest of the bathroom. I stripped slowly, mindful of my aching joints, then headed towards the shower. As I did, I passed the large, full sized mirror on the far wall of the bathroom. I stopped, spinning slowly until I could see the entirety of my back over my shoulder. I could also see the scar, still an angry red. It stood out against the café au lait colour of my skin. I hated it, hated what it stood for, and hated the person who inflicted it on me. It was a constant reminder of the alien _thing_ which had grown to be a part of me.

I stepped away from the mirror in disgust, hurriedly opening the shower door and stepping in. it was much warmer inside the shower, and it relaxed my achy joints. I revelled in the momentary relief from my near constant state of pain, bending down and picking up the shower puff. I squirted my body wash onto it and worked it into lather before scrubbing my body with it thoroughly. I worked with highly complex machinery on a daily basis, which meant that being covered in motor oil was a forgone conclusion. I welcomed the opportunity to be clean at the end of the day.

Dropping the shower puff, I allowed the pulsing stream of water to rinse my body of suds before shampooing my hair, sculpting the soapy strands onto the top of my head before allowing those, too, to be rinsed out by the hot water. I stayed in the shower for a long time, until my fingers resembled prunes, before reluctantly shutting off the water and stepping out. I wrapped myself firmly in a towel, weathered and slightly rough with age, and exited the bathroom in search of clean clothing.

I hummed to myself as I headed across the living area of my apartment, wincing slightly at the feel of the cold wooden floor on my bare feet. I normally wore socks, at least, when crossing the carpet free area of my floor. Suddenly a shooting pain ran up my leg from the sole of my foot. I lifted my foot, swearing under my breath as I realised I had stepped on a piece of Lego. I had used the children's toy in the afternoon when I was trying to work out the kinks of my new machinery, thinking that a closer look would do wonders for my perception of the device. It had, of course, and I had frantically finished my invention an hour earlier, but now I regretted bringing out the tiny pieces of plastic. I had forgotten about the agony of stepping on one of those ridged blocks. I had also forgotten that to step on one was an inescapable fate.

I bent down to pick up the offending toy block, when a cough from behind me elicited a yelp of shock and pain as I span around, quickly facing the door.

"What the _hell_ are you doing in my apartment?"

"Hello Ms Turner," said the man at the door. He wore a black suit, crisply ironed and neat. "I am Agent Phil Coulson. I'm here about S.H.I.E.L.D."

I bit my lip clutching my towel to my body desperately. "Give me five minutes to put on some clothes."

8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8

I emerged from my room in my most comfortable clothes; a pair of navy leggings and a grey sweatshirt which covered my thighs. Agent Coulson had taken a seat on my couch, and it came to my attention that two burly agents guarded my front door. I swallowed thickly.

"So, S.H.I.E.L.D.," I commented, sinking into my office chair. "What concern is it of mine?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has been watching you, Ms Turner. We believe that your unique skillset could be of huge help in times to come." Agent Coulson told me, leaning forwards slightly with an air of excitement.

"And why is that, Agent?" I asked, eyes narrowing. I resisted the urge to rest my feet on my desk again, instead fiddling with one of my latest inventions – a tiny model replica of Stark Tower which I had wired to light up and – the part I was most proud of – was connected to Tony Stark's AI, Jarvis. Through him I could communicate with Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, one of my close friends, as well as confer with Tony about some of our more complex inventions. Plus, Jarvis amused me; Tony had upgraded him so that he had a delightful sense of sarcasm, something that I greatly appreciated.

"The Tesseract has been stolen."

I froze. Thoughts whirled around in my head at breakneck speed, theories and plans bursting to the front of my mind as I tried to process this information. I spun my chair around so that I was facing away from Coulson.

"And why does this affect me?" I spoke calmly, my tone cold. I did not like the Tesseract, or the emotions its mention had caused me to feel. I felt lost, alone, out of control, and I hated it. I rubbed my thickly scarred wrists absently, feeling them burn slightly at my touch. A mere ghost of the pain I had experienced.

"We need your help to find it," Coulson explained cautiously. I felt a white-hot surge of anger. How dare they ask for my help, after everything I had been through?

"Why should I care? You should have left it in the ocean. I want nothing to do with it." I slowly span back to face the couch. Coulson recoiled at the scowl on my face, but quickly regained himself.

"You don't have to go near it, just help us find it. We've got Bruce Banner on the case as well, and Tony Stark himself has also agreed to help us," Coulson wheedled. I laughed internally; if Tony had gotten involved, there must have been something extremely interesting going on; he had hated S.H.I.E.L.D. ever since Natasha Romanoff had fooled him into thinking she was a personal assistant. He had taken her deception as a personal slight.

But it was the mention of Bruce Banner, aka 'The Hulk' that intrigued me the most. I could identify with him, and the idea of something so alien inside you, something constantly fighting you for control of your body. I also admired the way he didn't let his… other side affect his work; even though he had gone into hiding, Tony had hacked enough information from S.H.I.E.L.D. to know that he was focusing on helping people. This was another thing I admired him for; the fact that he was trying to make amends for what his more primitive persona had destroyed. Indeed, the fact that he had destroyed Harlem was inconsequential to me, though I knew that Dr Banner had been the subject of much caution in the past because of this.

I thought of all the benefits of helping S.H.I.E.L.D. On one hand, I would possibly come into contact with the very thing that had made my life much worse than it was before the age of eight. Yes, though my father had ruined my life at the tender age of 5, the Tesseract had made it almost unbearable, forcing me into hiding at age 9. On the other hand, there was the possibility of meeting someone like myself, and I would get to see Tony again. Imagining the look on Tony's face when he realised I was there with him brought a small smile to my face. And meeting somebody like me had been my goal for seven years now; the opportunity was too good to resist. The prospect of working on a science project with Tony Stark _and_ Bruce Banner appealed to my inventor's side. They were both certified geniuses in several fields, and I knew that with Tony's intellect, he was well on the way to mastering at least three other fields.

I growled slightly in frustration at my thoughts. Agent Coulson bore a smug smirk on his face, as though he knew he had pinned me just where he wanted me.

Unfortunately, he had.

"It doesn't come near me, got it?" I snapped, easing myself out of my office chair and pacing to the door. Coulson didn't need to ask what I was referring to.

"Crystal clear. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Hannah. And thank you for trusting us." Coulson met me at the door with a sad smile.

"I'm not doing this for you, or S.H.I.E.L.D.," I snapped, tapping my fingers against the door jamb agitatedly.

"I know," Coulson said simply, before disappearing out of the door with his two bodyguards. I sagged against the wall beside my door, exhausted by the rush of emotions that Coulson had called forth.

Why couldn't they have just left me alone?


End file.
